This morning I went for my Level 2 ultrasound, which means that at almost 22 weeks I would be able to learn the gender.
Did I want to do that?
Yes, yes I did.
Since I never could not look for hidden Christmas presents as a kid, I knew that if I have a chance to know, I will.
So now I know.
Do you want to know?
Okay, just a minute.
First, I will have to go back and relay some weird pregnancy dreams I had. The very first one, and by far the weirdest, was when we were still on vacation in Miami. It was the last night of our trip. I did not yet know I was pregnant, yet in some weird way I already knew, and I said as much to Matt, who just looked at me in the same manner that he does when I confess my brain droppings to him, which is that I must be batshit crazy.
You know, that look.
Anyway, that night we had had the most incredible dinner, INCREDIBLE!, at Emeril Lagasse's Miami Beach restaurant. It was a total splurge, something I wouldn't normally condone, but like I said, it was like I knew that we would not pass this way again or have this opportunity for quite some time. So we made reservations. I had the salmon and Matt had the ribeye and we sat outside on the patio and watched the moon rise over the ocean. While eating the best tasting meal of my life. And drinking that bottle of wine. So that meant the little zygote was getting bathed in a sea of Emeril's own old-vine Zinfandel. Confession: I drank like an absolute fish on that trip, but that was before I knew anything.
So after that dinner, I had the dream. It was a horrible, weird, and creepy dream. Basically, I had a dream that Tom Selleck was stalking me. Yes, that Tom Selleck. Magnum P.I. I have no rational reason for this because I hadn't been watching any TV programs with Tom Selleck in them. The gist of the dream was that I moved into a house near Milwaukee and Tom was my new neighbor. He seemed okay at first, like all stalkers do, I suppose, but then I would see him walking past the house several times, and then caught him staring in the windows. I just KNEW he was up to no good. It was by far, the most bizarre dream I could remember. It was so weird I had to tell Matt about it. And then get a repeat of the batshit crazy look.
I'm sure in real life, Tom Selleck is a very nice person.
The next day we flew home and I just felt weird. Weird! I took the test that night and wasn't particularly surprised. I just sat on the rim of the bathtub and stared at it for a few minutes. I think I said a lot of dirty words.
Matt just kept shaking the stick that screamed Pregnant back and forth as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He blinked and blinked and waved it around like a conductor's baton.
I told him that it wasn't an Etch-A-Sketch. You can't just shake it and erase it.
The second dream I had was I was going to a garden center, but this center had kids for sale. A real live kindergarten, if you will. When I got there, there were only three kids left, all about three years old. The lady asked me which one I wanted. There were two little faceless boys sitting in the dirt and playing. And there was one little girl, wearing a plaid dress with a white pinafore over the top. For some reason all the kids were dressed like it was 1911. She had a bow in her hair, which was filled with brown curls. Her eyes were golden brown. I pointed at her and told the lady, "I'll take that one!"
Then I woke up. I was convinced I was going to have a girl.
When I told Matt he gave me another look. "But it was my dream!" I said. Then I remembered Tom Selleck.
I also had dreams I had to slalom ski down Mount Everest, plus another dream I was being hunted by a mountain lion and had to shoot it with a tranquilizer dart so it wouldn't get me.
So today I went to find out if I was right or not. We both wanted it to be a girl, but Matt figured it would be a boy because we wanted the girl.
When they did the ultrasound my first reaction when I saw the face was that it was a girl; it looked really cute.
Then I thought I saw a giant penis. Turns out that was the umbilical cord.
Then the tech runs through, measuring everything, looking at all the organs, arms and legs, and spine and heart and stomach and brain and neck. I can see the feet and hands waving; the baby looks like it is boxing.
"Is it a girl? Because I think it is."
"Hmmm... I haven't looked there yet."
Then the doctor comes in the room and looks on the monitor. He is old and crusty and vaguely reminds me of Johnny Carson. He compliments the baby. "Very good proportions, that's a nice looking baby. 64th percentile. Long limbs. It's sticking its tongue out."
That sounds like my child.
The tech agrees. "Very cute profile!"
"So is it a girl? Hamburger or hotdog?" If the genitals look like the side of a hamburger bun, then it's a girl. A hotdog is a boy.
The tech laughs. "I think you're right. It looks like a girl to me."
The doctor agrees. "I think so, too."
I'm practically giddy with vindication. I WAS RIGHT!
I get some pictures printed out and call Matt as soon as I walk out the door.
"Do you know?"
There is silence.
"So I guess you just have to ask yourself one question," I tell him.
"Do you think I'm right or wrong?"
Pause... "You're right?"
"Of course. Baby, when have I ever been wrong?"
I hear a Woo-Hoo! on the other end. An actual Woo-Hoo.
I notice people giving me looks as I pass them on the street. I have a weird grin plastered on my face, looking, I imagine, exactly like the cat who swallowed the canary.
I stare at one of the pictures as I walk back to work. It is a little hand, with one finger extended. It appears to be the middle one.
Oh yes, that is my daughter.